


Unspoken Melody

by tickedtabbyflower



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:39:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tickedtabbyflower/pseuds/tickedtabbyflower
Summary: Riccardo is practicing his own melody. It's one involving a certain redhead, but not one he'd dare tell the full story of in words.





	

Riccardo waited for his companion, his ward, as he played the lute. Amadeo had been called away by one of the tutors to assist with the younger boys. Riccardo had pressed a kiss to his cheek, his own way of assuring him he would be easy enough to find once Amadeo was free again to be at his leisure. Each string brought on a different tone, light and sad at the same time. Dark eyes closed as he listened, his fingers dancing over familiar strings. The song was his own and needed no paper music. He’d been practicing it for the master, but it wasn’t quite time for him to unveil such. As the notes rose and fell, a soft sigh escaped him. The memory that the lute sang of played in his mind once more. Amadeo had been holding the paints, as he seemed to enjoy doing as he watched the other boys paint. Riccardo had come in, dark eyes focused on the smaller apprentice that hadn’t taken notice of him yet. His eyes ghosted over a mark on the pale skin, hidden from the eyes of the other apprentices with the collar of his own tunic. It wasn’t one Riccardo had given him, that much he knew, but they weren’t exclusive to each other either. Amadeo had the master’s attentions when he was home. He’d leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Amadeo jumped slightly, softer brown eyes turning to him in shock. “Ah, you startled me.” He replied softly, a smile coming to his face as he nuzzled Riccardo’s cheek. “You seemed lost in thought. I meant only to surprise you.” He mused, looking at the painting that was unfolding from the apprentices that held the brushes. “You never paint, but you always manage to get covered in it anyway.” He couldn’t hide the note of humor in his voice as he reached up to brush away the blue that flecked just below Amadeo’s lips. Soft brown eyes locked onto his once more as he leaned into the attention. “I stand too close, it seems. I’ve ruined countless garments from doing such.” He commented with a shrug. “Will you not pick up the brush?” Riccardo had inquired. His response had been downcast eyes, the soft shaking of auburn curls. The melody shifted, the notes going to deeper tones. They sang of night, softer comforts.His mind fast forwarded, his darker tresses still damp from the bath as he’d gotten ready for bed. He’d laid down, facing the fireplace. He’d dozed off just before he felt a familiar weight on the bed, heard the softer sounds of sobbing. He’d turned, looking over Amadeo. Tears hung at the corners of his eyes, a soft pout drawing his lips down. Riccardo had sighed, knowing full well that look. It meant the master had taken his leave once more, had left even after all his companion’s pleas that he stay. Riccardo had wrapped his arms around the paler being, feeling the cold that still clung to his skin. “He’ll return. He always does.” He whispered his assurances, feeling the tension begin to leave. Amadeo had usually fallen asleep in his arms then, but not on this night. The lute in his hands took on a different tone, more sensual, as the next chain of soft sighs and sweeter kisses had roused him fully from his slumber. Their clothes had pooled on the floor as he’d let his own desires for the smaller man run wild, his own full lips leaving soft trails and shivers down that cooler skin. He’d smiled at the blush it had brought to Amadeo’s face, long fingers coming to draw him back up so their lips could meet once more. They’d been more than ready for this encounter, or so he’d thought. The lute grew louder, bolder as soft moans and blushing skin flooded his thoughts. Each response had only pushed him to go further until they’d melded together. He’d been gentle, not wanting to hurt the smaller apprentice. Amadeo was already hurt by their master and he’d only intended on showing him comfort, but it had went further. The notes became faster as they’d rode pleasure, but just before the climax a sharp note had cut the tune short. ‘Marius..’ It had been a whispered name and not his own. He’d paused then, that single word cutting through him. Amadeo’s eyes had went wide, his own skin paling once more. “Riccardo, I..” He’d cut him off, leaning in to catch his lips. He could feel the body below him go rigid. “Don’t.” He’d whispered, his own plea. “Just kiss me.” The lute’s pause had been broken, the melody now softer in its feeling of submission and sadness. He’d pulled Amadeo out of his shell, letting their night end in pleasure. He could feel the sour note hanging in the air as it had then. Once the smaller apprentice had given his own release, he’d ended their lovemaking, claiming the day had taken the strength he’d had. A soft gasp had gotten his attention and dark eyes opened once more, ending the memory as he saw Amadeo standing there, his own pale hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Such sadness..” He’d whispered. Riccardo looked away, setting the lute aside after the final note. “True stories sometimes are.” He replied, letting his smile return as he stood. Amadeo moved closer, fingers dancing across the hand that hung by his side. “Is it yours?” He asked. Riccardo didn’t answer immediately, not wanting to hurt his companion with the truth of it. “Yes, but it’s already forgiven.” He replied lightly. “Will you tell me it?” Amadeo asked, brown eyes coming up to meet his own darker ones. He sighed. “Maybe some night when it hurts to forgive it.” He replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “For now, we have other things to do.” He laced their fingers, bringing them up for a kiss as well. “Shall we?” Amadeo smiled, giving him a nod. He dared not tell the story, he knew. He’d let the melody sing it’s sadness, but the names of who it belonged to would remain for him alone.


End file.
